Part of Your World
by zrose
Summary: What if Phantom of the Opera had more in common with The Little Mermaid rather than Beauty and the Beast?
1. Beneath the Moon

Once upon a time in a faraway land under the sea, there was a young merman who had the most beautiful voice on sea or land. He was loved by no one, and loved nothing except his voice – sound travels faster in water than air, and the kingdom under the sea was seeped with his melodies. Yet, deep down in his soul, he knew that there was more to the world than his small life under the sea, he wanted to see the sun.

"The world above is a dangerous place," warned his guardian. She was a severe mermaid with an all black tail with no adornments- not even a sole oyster shell shone on her scales.

"How would you know? Have you ever been to the surface?" he asked defensively, though secretly he was trying to get information.

"Humans are different, Erik. They are not like us." No one knows why the merman's name was Erik, other than that it sounded good and strong and appropriate.

Even though he was forbidden from rising to the suface, he would go there anyway. In the evening, when his guardian and her daughter fell asleep, Erik would swim to a rock 10 feet away from the shore and stare at the large stone castle by the sea. He would bring his sea-violin and after carefully making sure no one could see him, he would play his music. Oh! How much more beautiful it sounded on the surface! Sometimes, when he was overcome with emotion, he would sing his soul's wishes and his sadness that he would never see the sun, even if he had travelled beyond his known world.

Meanwhile, in the castle, Princess Christine always wondered why she heard such beautiful music in her dreams. She would comb the shore the next morning to see if the mysterious serenade was real, only to find nothing. The music always felt so tangible, yet ethereal, but for so long she thought it was a dream that one evening, half-awake and half-dazed, she was amazed to find she could still her the haunting sounds of the string instrument. She pinched herself, but much to her surprise, it was a startling reality. She needed to investigate.

The next evening, after her ladies-in-waiting had fallen asleep, she quietly snuck out the window and onto the coast. As her toes sunk into the sand and her hair was swept back by the sea-breeze, she knew something magical was going to take place.

She waited hours for the long-suffering Scandanavian summer sun to lay its fitful head and stared into the dark waters. An eternity seemed to pass, but she stayed. Just as she was beginning to sink into the sand, her head resting on her hiding place, she heard the music.

It was more beautiful in person! Without thinking, she lifted her own head and began to sing.

Erik was taken aback. In all his nights of coming to the surface he had never heard anything like this. The sound was clear and pure- the embodiment of sunlight! He played with more intensity, trying to match her. Out of the darkness, he could see a young woman walk towards him. Her could see her fair, beautiful face in the moonlight, surrounded by cascading brown curls. She stepped into the water, with each step matching their heartbeats – until he saw the brief look of horror on her face. He was not like her. In shame, he dove back into the comforting arms of the sea.

The siren, for that was what Christine had decided to call it, was the most unusual creature she had ever seen. 'How could a creature that makes such beautiful music be so hideous?' She could still see its green skin, its irridecnt scales glimmering in the moonlight, its matted black hair, its flat soulless eyes –and its mouth. It was as if it was gasping for air rather than singing. She was puzzled.

'Another mystery for another day.' She thought. She was about to head inside when the wind swept her red scarf from underneath her.

'Wait, come back!' she shouted uselessly. She sprinted after the cloth dancing through the air, 'It was my mother's!'

She chased it down the dunes, but it was getting further out of sight. It would soon be lost forever. As she climbed the top of the largest dune, she could see a man in the distance, holding her scarf up high like a banner. She rushed down the dune, only to fall over and slide into the sand.

"Do you need any assistance, Miss?" he asked. He was golden, from his skin to his hair. Gallantly, he offered his hand, she accepted.

"Thank you," she replied sheepishly, "For saving my scarf."

He laughed, "It was my pleasure." Their fingers briefly touched as he handed her back the red fabric. It was only as their eyes met that they recognized each other.

"Your Highness!" he bowed. "Forgive my impertanence." Christine could see that the man in front of her was Raoul, her former childhood friend, now a rising star in her father's navy. She cursed society for rearing its ugly head again.

"Rise, good sir, there is no need for such formality. You are among a friend." She smiled.

"It has been a long time," He mumbled.

"Too long." She agreed. "Would you do me the favor of accompanying me on my birthday cruise tomorrow?"

"But, my Lady, that cruise is your coming-of-age ceremony! Only members of the court are invited!"

"But, it is my party, and you are my guest." He was still to astonished to respond.

"I suppose I will see you there."


	2. The Storm

Erik banged his fist against the rocks. Why? Why was he not human? He threw his violin away as he swam deeper below the surface. He was going to find the girl made of sunlight, he was going to make he fall in love with him (if she could feel as much as he could, then the smallest amount of love would be enough), and he was going to be human.

He had to talk to the sea witch.

"Erik you can't be serious!" shouted a voice in the distance.

"Have you been following me, Meg?" Unlike her mother, she had long blonde hair, a charming smile, and a deep blue tail that sparkled like diamonds.

"The sea witch will say that she will help you, but it is not worth the cost – what ever it is you want, it is not worth it!" she cried.

"I have yearn for this deep in my bones. Nothing will stop me. Farewell, Meg. Give my thanks to your mother for her help all of these years." He did not turn around to see her tears well upwards.

"So, you wish to be human," purred Carlotta the sea witch. Part amphibian, part human, her red hair stood out against her green skin in the dim cavern.

"More than anything."

"This is a life-changing decision, and a powerful spell. You are going to have to give me the thing you value the most."

"All I have is my voice."

"Well, that will do." Erik hesitated. Was this a good idea? He thought of the girl, and her music. Yes, it would be worth it.

"This spell has a trail run. Initially, you will just be given a lower-abdomen and legs. No frills. Then, as you gain a reason that you can prove you deserve life above, you will turn completely human."

"That is completely unfair!" fumed Erik.

"Take it or leave it." He gave a displeased huff, but there was very little he could do.

"What will I have to do to prove my worth?"

"Find someone who will love you. Once you have been given a gesture of true love, preferably a kiss, you will feel the transformation."

"I guess it will do. I accept your offer."

"Remember," she smirked, "Humans are a bit more…judgemental about physical appearances compared to us merfolk. ('Us merfolk,' thought Erik, 'You are nothing but a wretched old toad.') For your sake, I would take these." She handed him a full-faced black leather mask, and a smaller white half-mask. "You wouldn't want to blind your lover with your ugliness."

"Why you horrible…" he could feel his voice draining away, as if his throat was on fire. Erik coughed and spluttered, but it was to no avail.

"I would suggest you spend your evening on the surface tonight. The transformation process will occur in another five hours."

The party started at six, but due to pomp and circumstance, Christine hardly got to do anything until ten. There was royalty to meet, matters of state to discuss, people to dance with. All quite boring really. It was only after she got a chance to breathe that she saw Raoul standing uncomfortably in the corner, sipping the punch.

"Your Highness, you must meet the Archduke of…"

"In a minute, Sorelli," she called back in her best Command Voice (as Father calls it) "I have an important matter to discuss. Though she did doubt that Sorelli would find her love life all that important.

"Enjoying the party?" She giggled as Raoul tried to maintain his composure.

"Of course, Your Highness! I am having a wonderful time!"

"I'm not." she sighed. "I find all of this, these rules, these people so boring." She leaned over the side of this ship and Raoul followed suit. "Sometimes, I wish something exciting would happen, that I could escape all of this."

Although he knew it was not proper (not only for the princess, but his superiors were all present), Raoul could not help but pull Christine into a hug. She looked so vulnerable, and he felt like she was so alone. Let them stare. She smiled and dug her head into his chest. "Thank you."

She felt a raindrop sprinkle her eyelashes and squinted. The rain started to quicken its pace.

"We should go in." Wiping her face, she agreed.

The rain was unrelentless, almost torrential. Soon, it was turning into a typhoon with ferocious gales and ear-splitting thunder.

Suddenly, the dark was torn asunder by a flash of lighting, and the smell of burnt wood permeated the air.

Before Christine could register what happened, she heard screams of panic as people were trying to evacuate the cabin. She tried to direct most of them out as best as she could. But the panic was beginning to terrify her as well. As the last of the guest were evacuated and she headed on deck, she could see nothing but fire. It had spread onto the masts and the sails. With any luck, there should be enough life boats to…

There weren't any life boats left on the ship.

"Hello?" No one was left. She assumed everyone had evacuated. Hearing a sharp crack, she saw the mast falling on top of her, engulfed in flames.

'No time for second thoughts now,' She jumped overboard and into the icy waters.

Christine gasped. She could feel her muscles spasm from the shock, and her conciousness fading away. 'I am going to die…' Before she felt the blackness overcome her, she could feel a pair of strong arms pulling her to safety.


	3. Music's Throne

Christine awoke to the sound of the surf and the sun on her face. Coughing seawater, she tried to stand up. After falling on her first try, she tried again, with some success.

Much to her relief, she was glad to find that she had washed ashore on the coast of her homeland – a little farther than she was used to, but the castle was still in the distance. Father would be glad to see her.

With a heavy sigh, Christine dusted the sand off her now-tattered dress and decided to see if anyone else washed up. As she trailed along the coast, she was dismayed to find no one. She was about to give up when she saw a body. The waves were lapping in and over its motionless form.

Running to the figure, she could discern that it was a man, though she found it odd that he was in a mask. Deciding to respect his privacy, she checked his vitals, which were fine, though she thought it was odd that his hands were webbed. He was in about as worse a state as she was, and although he did not seem to be from her wreck, he seemed to be from a wreck, and as fellow survivors she had to help him.

Much to her surprise, she could hear a dog barking, and a man calling her name.

"Christine!" It was Raoul! He was looking for her…could he have possibly saved her from the wreck too? It seemed like the only explanation…

"Raoul! We're here!" He ran over to Christine and swept her into his arms.

"Oh Christine, I thought I had lost you," he cried. "I looked for you on the life boat, and when Sorrelli said she had not seen you I thought…"

She put a finger to his lips. "It doesn't matter now. We are together again." She indicated to the unconscious man, "We have to help him, he was also in a wreck and I think he might be hurt."

Erik felt something bright burning into his eyes when he woke up. He flinched away, only to start seeing spots. He blinked, and noticed how…dry everything was. Quickly he checked underneath his sheets. Were those? Yes! He had legs! He was worried as to how he had gotten into the pair of peach silk pajamas he was wearing though, but they felt soft and reminded him of water.

He took in his surroundings. Like the pajamas, everything in the room was plush and decorated in either peach or white from the dresser, the boudoir, to the four-poster bed.

'Maybe I should try to walk…' gingerly, he put one foot on the ground and tried to put his weight on it, only to fall flat on the floor. After a few more failed attempts, he tried to balance himself with the bed post before he could take a few baby steps.

'This might be more difficult than I expected.'

After about twenty minutes, Erik felt secure enough to walk over to the boudoir. Looking at his reflection, he saw that he was still wearing the mask. Hoping against hope, he peeled it back, only to find he still looked like a fish. Suppressing the urge to smash the mirror with his fist, he went over to the dresser to find a suit waiting for him.

After morning lessons with Sorelli, Christine was dying to find out more about the unknown man she rescued on the beach. She still had her afternoon French class, but she decided that she could make it up later. Looking over her shoulder, she decided to pay a visit to the masked stranger.

Just as Erik finished figuring out how buttons worked, (he was still wondering why exactly humans needed this many clothes) he heard the latch unlock as the door opened.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you are awake!" It was the girl! How did she find him? "I hope you don't mind staying in my home for a few days, just until you seem fit to travel on your own." Erik thanked serendipity for bringing them together once more.

"My name is Christine, though I'm sure you probably know that. Not that I mean to be conceited or anything, I just thought you might have seen me at some ceremony or something…what's your name?" Christine wondered why she was feeling so self-concious around this man, no one ever made her feel this way, not even Raoul. She was the princess wasn't she?

Erik tried to speak, only to remember his bargain. Desperately, he tried to gesticulate with his hands.

"You're mute?" Erik nodded.

"Well, I guess I'll be doing the talking then won't I?" she giggled sheepishly. There was a brief moment of silence as both of them tried to look at everything in the room except the other's eyes. "Why don't I give you a tour of the palace?"

Christine proceeded to show him everything. The dining room, the various drawing rooms, her father's study, the boring art collection that the public paid money to see, and more. Erik enjoyed the effects in the Hall of Mirrors, and wondered what visual tricks one could play if it wasn't just a conversation piece. They ran up and down the towers, played hide-and-seek among the suits of armor, and Christine even showed him the secret rose garden hidden behind a wall of ivy.

She handed one of the beautiful flowers to him, only for him to wince in pain and the pricking sensation on his thumb.

"Be careful of the thorns," warned Christine as Erik tried to suck away the blood "Sometimes beauty has a price." she warned sadly. "My mother was very vain, she spent so much of her time trying to become the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, and all it did was kill her," Christine laughed bitterly. Erik frowned, this did not become his sunshine.

"She died of lead poisoning from her skin whitening creams – can you believe the irony?" He could see her stewing in her anger, but did not know what to do to help her. Eventually, she shook herself out.

"Come on, we haven't seen the best part." She grabbed Erik's hand and led him up a spiral staircase.

"In here," murmured Christine, "Is a room beyond your wildest dreams." With a flourish, she opened the door as sunlight poured in.

Erik gasped. It was a music room! There were instruments lining the walls- brasses, woodwinds, strings, and many that he had never seen before…except one.

"It's pretty impressive, I know. My father collects them. He plays most of them, I don't though. I don't think I've even…where are you going?" She saw her guest walk up to the strange red stringed instrument and pick it up.

"Like that one? I found it yesterday on the shore. I thought I would…" She stopped when she heard her guest play the instrument with such deft, it wasn't just skill though- he was playing with his soul and she knew the tune. Instinctively, she began to sing. It was wordless, but seemed to express everything she was feeling, all her happiness, confusion, and the inner sadness she could never express – she had to be stronger than that for her people.

After some time, they stopped, basking in a comfortable silence. Eventually he placed the violin back onto the pedestal. Picking up a stray sheet of paper and a quill pen on top of the piano, he quickly scrawled a brief message and handed it to her.

Looking at the note, she smiled. "Erik. I like that."


	4. The Courtyard

(A/N: Ostkaka is Sweedish Cheesecake, which is different from the American version. Why is this set in Sweeden instead of France you may ask? Just wait and see.)

"Okay Erik, let's start again from the top, this time, you lead."

Step left, up, step right, then down. Turn around, keep going. Erik was beginning to find human dancing to be bothersome. It was so much easier, and more graceful underwater. (He remembered some of the dances Meg had taught him and hoped that she was alright. It was coming up to two weeks now.)

"You're doing fine," smiled Christine. Erik smiled nervously; he was amazed Christine had such patience for him. Luckily, the singing lessons were going on with more success.

Christine winced as Erik stepped on her toe. Again. 'Hopefully the swelling would go down soon,' she thought. She wanted Erik to be her partner for the upcoming gala, since he had done so much for her.

Ever since that first day in the music room, Erik decided to help her improve her vocal training. When Christine discovered that Erik to write to her to communicate, she bought him a black leather journal to write down his thoughts. Erik would write his intstructions in the journal and let her read off the page. (She could see that there were some pages on there that he wouldn't let her read, but she decided not to pry. Ever since the court found out about the strange new visitor, Erik hardly had any privacy as it is.)

For a while, it was their secret, until Father overheard them one day. It was nice having a secret though, while it lasted. Everything about court was so public that Christine always felt like a circus monkey most of the time – it was nice to have someone see her as something other than a princess. Now there was going to be a gala to celebrate her talents, to parade her as propaganda for the kingdom.

"Would you mind if we stopped our lessons early today?" Judging by Erik's posture, the answer was probably no. Christine had gotten used to deciphering Erik's body language since his mask was so impassive. "Father has summoned us, and I want to make sure we are on time." She could see Erik contemplate the request, then begrudgingly nod. Although he had seen the king at palace banquets, this would be the first time he would be formally introduced, and he could see how much of an honor it was.

"Christine!" King Gustaave jumped out of his throne. and waved to the two as they entered the Ceremonial Chamber.

"Sire, more decorum please. There are subjects present." urged the court advisor.

"Can't I greet my own daughter properly anymore? You need to stop being so anxious, Phillipe!"

"Father," Christine curtsied, head bowed but her smile widening.

"Come over here," Gustaave pulled her into a hug. "And I see you've brought Erik! Hello, my boy! Already a fortnight and you're still the latest talk of the town! May I have a word with you?" He opened a door from behind his throne, leading to what looked like an outdoor hallway.

Erik looked over to Christine, who nodded and mouthed, 'Go on.' As he walked through the door, Phillipe followed before the king pushed him out.

"I would like to speak to Erik alone." Phillipe pouted, but acquiesced. He had always present to handle the king's affairs. What ever it was he was going to discuss with the boy, it must be special.

Erik admired the blue Delft tiles along the floors and the fruit trees beginning to flower in the center of the square. There was an air of intimacy and tranquilty, as if anything that transpired here was held in the bounds of trust and respect.

"Like it?" grinned Gustaave. "I use this place mostly for diplomatic meetings now, I find it brings more desired results than an office does." He looked contemplative. "Before that, it was the place where I fell in love with Christine's mother. We spent so much time here before…" his eyes were beginning to glass over, but he shook it off.

"Erik, I wanted to thank you for continuing to give Christine singing lessons. She used to love singing, her mother used to teach her; but, after she died, I guess it lost its appeal. I hired instructors, many instructors. None of them were able to spark that passion she used to have. You've brought out something in her I haven't seen in years." Gustaave tried to read Erik's face for a reaction, and master statesman that he was, he decided that contemplative stillness was a good sign.

"The music Christine has been using for practice – did you write that?" Seeing Erik's prompt nod, he tried to hide his smile. Here it goes…

"How would you like to write the music for the gala?" Erik literally jumped at the suggestion, and was glad to see him nod vigourously at the idea.

He laughed, "Well, I'm glad you like the idea. You can send Phillipe the score when you are done." Gustaave left Erik to think about the new turn of events.

He opened the door abruptly to find Phillipe standing behind it. "Listening in?"

"Sire, do you think it is a good idea to have a stranger spending so much time with your daughter?"

"I trust Erik completely. He's brilliant, I wouldn't mind if Christine married someone like him." Gustaave started to walk out of the room, knowing that his advisor would follow him anywhere.

Phillpe ran after him at top speed. "But your daughter needs to make a match beneficial to the kingdom! She should make a match that cements the dynasty's name and brings no question of doubt over her right to rule. I think someone in the establishment would be more appropriate…"

"Someone like your brother, Raoul? He is a nice boy of course, but it is entirely Christine's choice, and she seems to like this one. Besides, she is MY daughter. There is no doubt in her legitimacy to the throne. Is there?"

Phillipe gulped. "No, your Highness, there isn't."

"Good. Now, I hear that the cook has made some fresh Ostkaka. I think it's time we get a few slices."

Erik walked back to his room. Christine had to go back to her classes, so Erik decided to spend the hours he had to himself by taking a bath. Land life was wonderful, but he still missed the feel of the water.

'Life couldn't be better,' thought Erik as he turned the fauchet. He could feel Christine growing closer to him by the day, and as he was spending time with her, he was beginning to see past her startling beauty and see the real person. He saw her kindness, her understanding, and also her insecurities. She had become more than just a symbol of salvation…he was in love with Christine and Christine alone.

As he peeled back the black mask and placed it on the counter, he took a cursory glance in the mirror. It couldn't be…

He rubbed his eyes, wiped the mirror and looked again. Slowly, he touched his face. It was real. Inspecting the new flesh colored area of skin, Erik could see that half of his face had transformed to look more human.


	5. The Shore

(A/N: The mention of the day at the pier is a reference to LND. Yes, I know that was a cheesy anachronistic thing to do.)

"I don't like it," muttered Phillipe, grabbing the marble railings of the balcony. It was a calm summer's evening, and the lavender twilight of the sea seemed to simmer in his frustration.

"What is it?" Sorrelli gently caressed his cheek. Exhaling, he placed his hand on hers and held it tightly.

"I'm worried. This young man just comes in out of nowhere, and now the entire royal family is at his mercy. What are his intentions? No one knows. He's so very close to ruling this kingdom, and no one even knows what he looks like!"

"It is very hard to trust someone in a mask," agreed Sorrelli. "I'm more worried about Christine though."

"Is it because she's been spending so much unsupervised time with a stranger?" Erik, as the man had come to be called for some reason or the other, had strictly expressed that no one was to be present with Christine for her lessons in order for him to maintain his 'concentration.'

"Yes, but really, I'm more worried for herself. In the time since Erik washed ashore, she's talked of nothing but him. She's not eating properly, and I think she's wearing herself hoarse practicing- I've heard her singing outside her sessions. Her voice has…" Sorrelli tried to think of a good description, "a haunting quality to it."

"More like a haunted one. I've seen it too. He's been making her spend far too much time with him. I think it's bordering on obsession."

"Should we tell the king?"

"He won't hear of it. I think we should investigate though, see what we can find out about this Erik…"

"I'm glad you've been able to take some time out of your busy schedule to have fun." Although Raoul was surprised to get a message from Christine asking to see her 'for old time's sake,' he couldn't refuse her.

"Oh Raoul, don't be like that. Erik's just increased my practice time to make sure I'm ready for the gala." They were walking along the coast, but the sun seemed to have gone and the weather was mostly overcast.

Raoul gently brushed his fingertips against Christine's. Shocked, Christine pulled her hand away from her side.

"Something wrong?" From the confused look on his face, Christine relaxed. It was probably just an accident.

"No I'm fine." She donned a cheerful fake smile and ran her fingers through her hair before letting her arm fall limp to her side once more.

Raoul looked her over carefully. She did not look fine. She seemed like a completely different person from the woman he met on the dunes. Her confidence was gone, and she seemed too ethereal in her loose hair (lacking any effort or adornments becoming a princess) and her loose dress (not a fashionable crinoline in sight).

"Do you have any more rehersals today?"

"Yes, in another two hours." Raoul grabbed her wrist.

"Then we better make the most of it. Have you been to the pier before? I hear they have sweets that look like cotton."

Erik paced across the room once more. Christine was an hour late. This never happened, ever. Was something wrong? Maybe she stopped liking him. Maybe she found something better to do with her time than spend it with him, how could he ever think she would be his. Maybe he pushed her too hard…no! He was striving for perfection! If she couldn't keep up…oh who was he fooling? She was gone.

Sitting back onto the piano bench, he banged the keys in frustration. Maybe some fresh air would do him good.

"I didn't know you were so good at darts!" laughed Raoul.

"And I didn't know you could eat that much cotton candy? How do you manage to keep your figure?" teased Christine. They started walking along the coast, back towards the castle.

"I'm just lucky enough to have a high metabolism. And my stomach just happens to be a black hole." he winked. Raoul frowned as he saw Christine's smile slip away and her face returned to its constant state of blankness.

"Thanks…for everything. I really needed this."

"It's no problem. I'm sure what ever anxieties you are having will pass after the gala."

"He wants me to marry him." Christine hadn't planned to say that, and immediately regretted the words leaving her mouth.

"What?" They'd barely known each other a month. Surely he couldn't be serious.

"He's been pressuring me. He told me that if I don't answer soon, he will disappear forever. He says he will die! Raoul, I can't have that on my conscience!"

"Have you told your father about this?"

"There's no need to bring Father into this mess. It would break his heart. Oh, what am I going to do?"

Raoul held onto Christine's hands and looked her straight in the eye. "Christine, what ever happens, know that I will always be there to support you. No one can make you do anything you don't want to."

"But, what about…"

"No buts. You are a princess, remember? You call the shots here." He was happy to see Christine smile again, but was even more surprised to see her kiss him.

After what seemed like an hour, but was possibly only five seconds, they let go. Raoul realized he was still holding onto Christine's hands and awkwardly let go.

"I don't know why I did that." wondered Christine. "Thanks for putting up with me, Raoul. You're a good friend." With that, she trotted back to the castle.

"Right, friend." Raoul followed after her.

Erik could not believe what he saw. She kissed him? Oh, everything he had hoped for was lost. It was over! He might as well throw himself into the sea…


	6. The Rope

Erik ran down to the shore, kicking off his shoes and trying to reach the water's cool embrace. He could feel the waves play against his moving feet, but he kept running until he could no longer stand, then swimming further until he reached his old rock.

Gasping, he sat down on the rock, waiting to catch his breath. He wanted to laugh at his circumstances. He remembered how he used to sit on this rock and dream of becoming human…now he cursed himself for wishing such a thing.

He could feel water running down his cheeks. He checked for rain, but the clouds seemed to have vanished. He wondered if maybe this is what crying felt like…it felt awful, he thought, having to feel this much

"I guess the human world wasn't what you expected." Much to Erik's surprise, Meg's head was bobbing up and down in the water right in front of him. Her hair had been cut short, and it was now chin length, making her face look rounder and her eyes bigger.

"It's better," replied Erik indignantly. He wiped his face, but the puffiness and red eyes was still visible, even the one behind the mask.

"I can see that." Despite Meg's best efforts, she was still sympathetic. "Oh, Erik! Maman and I are so worried for you. Will you be able to break the spell?"

Erik tried to distract her by answering with a question, "Is there a way to reverse it?"

"I wish you hadn't rushed so foolishly into this. If you can't get that girl to love you, you will die and your body will turn to sea foam." Erik was aware of the fact that mermaids did not have souls- their body and spirit turned into the sea once they died, becoming one with nature- yet he still flinched at the reminder.

"Then that is all. She has found someone else." Erik finally had the time to notice that the webbing had come off his fingers, and most of the scales were coming off his skin. He wondered how much longer he would have had…

"Well," Meg interrupted his thoughts nervously, "There is…one way out. I talked to the sea-witch, and for the price of my hair she gave me this." She threw him a golden lasso.

Erik looked at her sceptically as he examined it. It was finely woven from her hair, and from a few pulls he could tell it was very strong.

"It's woven with a spell in it. If you can sacrifice her life instead of yours, you will live and the spell will be broken. You'll turn into a human again and everything will be back to normal. Carlotta didn't tell me the first part until after I had given my hair, and I know it is the only option, but Erik, you wouldn't kill her, would you? I know you love her, and I can't think of ever doing that to someone I love."

"No, I never would. Does it have to be her?"

"Technically, it could be anyone, just as long as it's bloodless. Erik, where are you going?" Meg pleaded for him to come back, but he was too far ahead, swimming back to the castle with a purpose.

Christine slammed the door to her room. Why did she do that? She didn't want to lead Raoul into anything, and she certainly didn't want him to think ill of her. It wasn't as if she wanted to kiss him…yet, she did have to admit that it felt nice. There weren't any of the fireworks she was expecting out of a first kiss, just sweetness. It was probably from all the sugar they had been eating, but she had been overcome with emotion.

Still, it didn't seem right. Maybe it was the guilt. He did save her, after all. He was there for her, he listened to her, risked his life for her. She should love him, shouldn't she? If she had any sense, she would be thinking of him instead of some insane co-dependent stranger who was pushing her into a life or death decision.

She wondered what it would feel like to kiss Erik…NO! No, she needed to think clearly, think this through. Now, she was going to practice for the gala. Then, she will worry about her life.

"Are we safe here?" asked Sorrelli as they stood in the Western corridor of the castle. The candles along the hallway were dim and everything was bathed in shadows.

"Of course," reassured Philippe. "Our contact will be here any minute to give us information on the masked man."

"I'm already here." Sorrelli shrieked as she saw a dark man in strange clothing come into the light.

"There is no need to scream." His voice was even, and for a moment Sorelli thought his eyes were bearing into her soul. She draped her cloak over herself and shivered.

"You must be the Persian," Philippe sounded as if he was trying to assuage her fears, or maybe his, but the man took no notice. He nodded, his gaze unwavering.

"What have you found out about the man? Is he a threat?"

"There is nothing to discover about him. He has no records, no parents, no trade or past, not even a last name. It was as if he stepped out of the sea."

"That is quite puzzling," murmured Philippe.

"So you have nothing?" asked Sorrelli. She was starting to worry more about Erik, but at the moment this man was also beginning to put her on edge.

"I have planted people around the palace to spy on him, though most of my intelligence has been through personal investigation. When I was walking past the young man's room, I heard him create such uproar about his face. Discreetly, I opened the door, and I saw him throw his mask against the wall."

"Did you see his face?" asked Philippe. This was incredible; no one had seen his face before.

"Yes, and I have taken the liberty to draw it for you." He handed them a sheet of paper.

"Your drawing skills need improvement, this face looks quite exaggerated," drawled Philippe.

"I hired one of the best artists in Europe to draw from my description."

"Did you remember his face correctly?" asked Sorrelli, hoping that the picture they saw wasn't true.

"I never forget a face, my Lady." Philippe could have sworn the Persian was addressing her sarcastically, but with his accented almost monotone, he could not be sure.

"But, this is monstrous!" she screamed.

"Stranger than you could have dreamt it," agreed Philippe. "There is only one way we can be sure. We will have to convince Christine to unmask him at the gala and prove to the king that our guest is not what he seems."

(A/N: I wanted to thank everyone for the support and positive attention for this story. I love the input you have given me and would still appreciate it. There's only going to be one chapter left, and I thought I would let you decide. There are two ways that this story can go: 1. I originally planned for an ending that would combine both the Hans Christian Anderson ending with the Phantom ending, but it is sad. 2. This is an ending that is somewhat closer to the Disney version and is a bit happier. I've set up a poll on my profile, and if there is any interest, I'll also post the runner-up entry.)


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